


to run with a wolf

by carnivorousBelvedere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adrenaline Junkies, Age Difference, Animal Transformation, Drinking, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Older Dirk, Pining, Rituals, Road Trips, Travelers, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivorousBelvedere/pseuds/carnivorousBelvedere
Summary: That boy never stops.It seems that with an endless trust fund, he can afford not to.You, not so much, but you make it work. You made your money and retired early at a ripe old even forty-four.You met Jake English, a twenty-five year old in his third “gap year” jumping sand dunes in the desert. That night, you exchanged tales alongside a small fire and hit it off, as they say. He couldn’t get over how you made your fortune selling custom sex toys and you gave him a hard time for being funemployed, emphasis on the fun.Jake was clearly trying to find himself in the adventure.You were trying to lose yourself.





	1. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeachBriseadh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachBriseadh/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[Love of mine, someday you will die](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDHY1D0tKRA) _   
>  _[But I'll be close behind, I'll follow you into the dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDHY1D0tKRA) _   
>  _[No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDHY1D0tKRA) _   
>  _[Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDHY1D0tKRA) _

That boy never stops. 

It seems that with an endless trust fund, he can afford not to.

You, not so much, but you make it work. You made your money and retired early at a ripe old even forty-four. 

You met Jake English, a twenty-five year old in his third “gap year” jumping sand dunes in the desert. That night, you exchanged tales alongside a small fire and hit it off, as they say. He couldn’t get over how you made your fortune selling custom sex toys and you gave him a hard time for being funemployed, emphasis on the fun. 

Jake was clearly trying to find himself in the adventure. 

You were trying to lose yourself. 

It had seemed odd when he’d later approached you and asked if you wanted to jump out of plane that week in Sedona. 

You said yes, even though you were terrified. 

While going up in the plane he told you that being underwater scared him more than being in the air, but he was getting his scuba certification in Hawaii and planning to night dive with manta rays. 

You’d been certified since you were seventeen. 

It wasn’t difficult for him to convince you to come along with him for that and more: free diving with whale sharks in La Paz, spearing lionfish in the northern Carib, watching hammerhead migrations in the Galapagos. 

By the time you had finished hiking Los Siete Cascadas in Ecuador you had memorized every mole on his tanned back and grown used to the way he would remove his shirt at first possible opportunity. He was averse to clothes in a way you’d never seen before and would without fail blame it on the humidity. 

But the one thing you could never fully clasp in your mind, like fireflies in a jar, was the way he would smile at you after each experience you tasted together. 

You endured an entire evening of bug infestation in Honduras, walked with locals in Ambergris Caye, crossed the Panama canal, let him convince you to samba with him in Brazil. 

Oh, the way he would _smile_. 

He was pure youth you could sip from but never drink. If your heart ached it may or may not have just been from age, because whether you could admit it to yourself or not, there was no other Jake English for you in this world, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would find a younger Dirk Strider. 

Any day now, you’d tell yourself, he’s going to realize you’re weighing him down. 

Any day now he’d find the younger version of you, and they would hike the Himalayas without having to stress about muscles that took longer to recover or legs that could not move as fast. 

Any day now. 

\---

You’re both watching _Point Break_ , one of the movies you downloaded onto your iPad off the shitty hotel wifi before boarding your puddle jumper to Puerto Rico. It’s balanced on your knee between you and Jake, the two of you sharing a set of earphones while attempting to soak in as much AC as possible. 

The airport is crowded and Jake is crunching on a bag on plantain chips so loudly you can barely hear the movie. Actually, you’re being unfair, this place is just loud as hell and tiny. 

The plan is to spend a few days in Puerto Rico, taking up a few more tropical summer days before sending out to Europe for a change of pace. And to get rid of your awful sandal tan. You aren’t as excited to see those cities- Rome is a dirty place and the food is actually bland. Well, you don’t know that firsthand, someone had just once told you and you’d never forgotten. But there is a chance you could convince Jake to cut that part of the trip short and hop down through Spain across the Strait of Gibraltar and into Morocco. 

In retrospect, _Point Break_ was a poor choice to pass the time. These homoerotic undertones are lost on no one, and they are shared between two men bearing similar features to you and your young counterpart no less. 

“ _Everything moves in cycles…_ ” says Bodhi, the blonde surfing hippie guru. “ _So twice a century the ocean lets us know just how small we really are. The fifty-year storm comes out of Antarctica, tearing up the Pacific, and it sends a huge swell north two thousand miles. And when it hits Bells Beach it'll turn into the biggest surf this planet has ever seen. And l will be there._ ” 

You lean back on the bench. “What’s your ‘big one’?” you ask. “Your ‘fifty-year storm’.” 

He pauses the movie to consider your question, thoughtfully swallowing his mouthful of banana. “Mt. Asgard,” he responds. 

You raise your eyebrows. “The climb?” 

“Yep.”

“Not Yosemite?”

“Nah, the Nose is overrated. Asgard makes you work for it. 5.10 minimum, forty pitches, several days to get there and several days to climb. Not a soul for miles.” 

“Yeah, no one to hear you fall either.”

Jake points a finger at you. “Hey now, that’s what the ropes are for.” 

“Yeah, sure. Well, I hope you get to do it one day,” you say. You hope you don’t sound bitter, there’s absolutely no way he’d be able to bring you along. No chance he’d want to. 

He sighs longingly and moves to continue the movie but stops. “Wait just a tick. How about we do it? Forget going to Europe. Let’s take a quick jaunt up to Canada.”

You look at him to see him peering at you with what seems to be hope. He seems to sense your unease. “I promise after we do that we can go straight to Africa after. All the zebras your heart could ever desire.”

You snort. However, you have not once been able to turn him down. After a moment’s deliberation you answer him. 

“Yeah fuck it, let’s do it.”

“YES.” He throws his fists in the air, possibly sending a few chips flying. 

You lean forward and rub your eyes under your sunglasses.

Christ, you’re going to need to buy a jacket. 

—

You’re busy enjoying a plate of tostones, taking in your last ocean view for a long while. Jake had talked your ear off the entire flight about climbing gear and rope and aids while you peered out the window at small islands passing under you. 

Now he’s playing with a cup of guisado and not looking at you. “What’s the matter, chum? You’ve been a bit bent out of sorts since we left the ABC’s.”

You grimace despite yourself. _I’ll lose you if we go home,_ you want to say. But you can’t. Because you can’t lose something if there is nothing there. But you are about to go home, you are already on American soil, and you will be away from Jake while you get your business resettled in Texas and he gets his settled… wherever it is he does that. The boy has always been quite cagey about his “home”. 

Yet the fact remains, if he found you on a slim chance meeting, it’s just as likely he can find someone else in that same time period. 

You dread it, sensing the inevitable in your bones, worse than the cold you would endure in Canada if you were actually to go with him. 

“I’m thinking about the cold up north,” you say, a half-truth.

“Oh, you summer pansy. You’ll be fine,” he leans toward you conspiratorially. “Worst case scenario, sleeping together keeps you warmest.” He winks at you shamelessly. 

You swallow thickly and lean back in your chair. How can he always do this to you? Does he even realize? You would call him a tease but what even is there to tease about. 

“You… You do want to go, right?” He asks.

He’s hesitant about it now, you can sense it. He’s giving you an out.

But you’ll stave it off for as long as you can. “Of course. We’ll accomplish your Great White Buffalo by the time the year’s over.”

He looks sidelong at you with a grin. “Don’t you mean White Whale?”

“Same thing.”

“Mhmmm. Well then, I’ve got a hankering to try the rum here, let’s get some _chupitos_.” 

“Wrong country,” you correct him. 

“Yeah well we all know my Spanish gets better when I’m drunk anyways.” 

“I’m too old to get drunk, let alone take shots with you.” 

“Nonsense! That’s never stopped you before.” 

You sigh heavily. “Fine, but no rehashes of the time we got kicked out of that bar in Leon.” 

“God, you say that place and I just taste tequila in the back of my throat already.” 

You laugh and stand up from your table to stretch after your meal, but Jake is already brazenly taking ahold of your wrist and is pulling you in the direction of whatever bar he trawled up on TripAdvisor off his phone. 

It’s moments like this where his youth really shines out, when he turns back to smile at you and you can eye his backside in those khaki shorts behind your shades without feeling too guilty. 

You can’t not look at him, no one else comes close to shining as brightly as he does. 

Jake is a competitive drinker. There are few things he isn’t competitive about, and his penchant for knocking back absurd amounts of alcohol is a big one. He is the only one who can badger you into drinking at all, but for the most part you manage to stop drinking before you find yourself in any true danger zone around him. 

Tonight, you already know, will end with you getting a bit too tanked, which you will pay for tenfold in the morning while the spry young man shakes it off over breakfast. 

You stand at the bar and tip another one back with him. 

“So what’s your Great White Buffalo?” he asks as you both gasp the sting away. 

You look at him. “I thought that was something else.”

“No no no, no Moby Dick references here, just ah, well damn I think you quoted Hot Tub Time Machine.”

“Fuck. You’re right.”

He bats his thick eyelashes at you ridiculously. “But my question remains, chap. Who was your ‘one that got away’?” 

Ah, shit. You’re too drunk to respond to this eloquently. 

“He’s still out there,” you mumble and take another drink. _Standing right in front of me_.

Holy fuck when did you get so pathetic. You’re too old for this. 

“He?” Jake says. 

Fuck. He’s going to think you’re a creeper, paranoid that you’ll be preying on him now. Which you are. You’ll throw up, without the help of alcohol, if you continue down this line of thinking.

You used to make sex toys for a living, you are a creeper. 

“Problem?” You challenge him weakly. He didn’t know, and now you’ve ruined everything. 

“Not at all,” he says and sways to the side a little, his inebriation showing. 

You clench your glass and try not to panic, but the panic is welcome as it forces you up to a higher level of lucidity. With a little more alcohol in him, maybe he won’t even remember what you said by tomorrow. 

“What about you, Jake?” You ask, completely hopeless. 

“What about another drink?” Jake mishears and starts to flag down the bartender. 

Well, you tried. 

You’re both stumbling down the cobblestone pathways, having to watch your sandals so you don’t trip. Your lodging is just another two blocks or so away, across the big square you already forgot the name of. 

Jake has an arm thrown around your shoulder, sticking himself to your side as you make your way back home. He almost trips and you catch him, and go to rest him up on a wall. 

“What if we just never went home,” you say as he rests his hands on his knees. 

“What?” Jake slurs. He is more drunk than you, a relief. 

“You heard me. What if we just stayed… right here. And never went back.”

“That’d be ridiculous,” Jake says. 

“Why?”

“Because there’s so much we still have to see,” he says. 

_We_. 

Maybe he means it. 

He’s probably just drunk. 

—

When you wake up in the morning, Jake rolls over on his side of the room and proclaims, “Man wild night huh?”

He brings you coffee and nothing else is said.


	2. My Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[Let’s pack a bag and migrate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cFLncCouxc) _   
>  _[To anywhere we please](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cFLncCouxc) _   
>  _[Clamber up the mountains](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cFLncCouxc) _   
>  _[Underneath the sea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cFLncCouxc) _   
>  _[Just you and me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cFLncCouxc) _

It turns out you need a bit more than just a new jacket, and Jake wants everything but a “quick jaunt” up to Canada. 

He wants to road trip. 

It didn’t take you long to check up on your finances and see how the business was doing before you were ready to go again. 

The itch had set in again. 

Jake is sullen and refuses to elaborate on why. This sets off alarm bells but you don’t voice your worried, concerned you’ll only push him away. 

Something is eating at him and you have the sense that it is regret for agreeing to another unknown amount of months by your side. You wish he would just say something, but you learned long ago that Jake is quite poor at voicing what exactly it is he wants. 

You could not do it yourself anyways. The thought of telling Jake he can leave your side sends hot daggers of fear into your chest. 

You are covetous of this young man brimming with life. 

Jake buys a brand new car for the purposes of your trip, which you find ridiculous yet at the same time completely sensible. He intends to start through your home in Texas, and then zig-zag your way through the states up north. 

Obviously he wants to pass through West Virginia, “just incase Bigfoot is about.”

Once you get up in to the Northeast, you’ll hop the border into French Canada and make your way to Mt. Asgard.

There is no rush, just you and Jake and the miles that separate you from your final destination.

You take him to real Texas barbecue on the day you intend to drive out and watch as he eats meat with his bare hands in a way that absolutely should not be endearing. He doesn’t speak much but afterwards he tells you it’s the best ribs he’s ever had in his life. You swell with Texan pride. 

You pack your car with camping and snow gear, intending to utilize both the outdoors and hotels much like you did on your last trip. You’re not as fond of the outdoors as Jake is, but you learned long ago you can handle whatever nature throws at you when he’s around.

It’s nighttime in Oklahoma when you make one of your first stops at a neon lit bar in the middle of nowhere. 

“This place looks terrible,” you observe.

“Yes and that probably means the wings are good, let’s go!”

As usual, you are easily convinced. 

You enter the restaurant and surprised to find the place is lined with standard regulation arm wrestling tables. Jake perks up instantly.

Oh no. 

He immediately sits you down at one and destroys you. You sigh and move to the bar. After seeing your failure a few other men attempt to take Jake on.

They lose spectacularly. He hasn’t even pulled out his big guns yet. 

There’s a burly, tattooed man in the corner staring Jake down. He’s got a large group of friends with a similar demeanor and that makes you quite nervous. 

Finally, after what seems like some internal deliberation, he gets up and approaches Jake. Fuck. You float over to watch this go down. 

“I bet I could beat you,” the man says.

Jake looks up at him with shining eyes. “Oh really now?” 

Don’t do it, Jake. Please don’t do it. 

“I’ll bet you two-hundred dollars I can.”

He did it. 

To punctuate his challenge he pulls his wallet out, counts out a wad of twenties and slams them on the table.

The man looks at the money, raises his eyebrows, and looks back at his group in the corner. “Hey guys, this kid thinks he can beat me for two hundred dollars!”

They laugh. Jake only smirks. 

“Alright little boy, hold on to you panties for a second.” The man goes back to his friends where in a show of goodwill he asks people to help fund this bet. His friends gladly supply him with cash. 

While he’s occupied, you lean over the table to talk to Jake. “Are you fucking crazy? That guy could beat the shit out of us.”

“Oh, have a little fun Dirk. We’ll be fine. What’s a little round of fisticuffs now and then?” 

“Yeah, I don’t think _fisticuffs_ are exactly what this guy has in mind if you beat him, Jake.” 

You’re shaking your head when the man stumbles back and smashes his own half of the bet on the table. 

“Let’s go punk.”

Jake grins and puts his arm up. The man sits on the seat across from him and they slide their elbow into the placed cups in the table. 

People come to crowd around for the spectacle. 

They clasp hands and you count down. 

The match begins and Jake lets him have some give, and then a little more, before his fist is about to be shoved into the table.

And then he winks at the man.

There’s something about Jake you know that no one else does, and it’s that for some inexplicable reason he enough grip strength to bend steel.

Jake winks and in an instant he throws the man’s arm to the other side, smashing his fist into the table. 

The man stands up in shock. “What! You little _shit_! You cheated!”

You take advantage of the sudden chaos in the room to sneak the pile of money off the table and into your pocket. 

“You. Me. Outside in five.” The man yells in his face and steps away fuming. 

“Holy shit lets get out of here,” you say. 

You grab his arm and dart towards the kitchen to make your escape. Employees yell as you pass through, but your life is on the line. As you sprint to the car people are already congregating outside for what is surely going to be an epic beatdown. 

You jump in the driver’s seat and the two of you take off, spinning gravel under your wheels. 

You’re still laughing and shaking by the time you stop at a gas station fifteen miles away.

“Man, shame about the money,” Jake says regretfully as you both stand outside the car waiting for it to fill with gas.

You remember and palm at your pants until you find and pull out the wad of winnings.

“You are such an idiot,” you say and hold it in front of you. 

Jake gapes at you before grinning widely and grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you excitedly. “Dirk, you brilliant bastard!” He exclaims, then moving his hands to take ahold of your face in an act of unbridled elation. 

You are so close, too close to him, and for a second you swear that you sway into each other before he pulls away and clears his throat, still chuckling to himself. 

“Well, I guess this means dinner’s on me,” he says. “And well-earned, I should add.” 

“Fight me,” you respond, having never once allowed him to pay for your meal despite all his self-disparaging trust fund baby comments. 

He grins and punches you in the shoulder, hard. 

“Filled your fisticuffs quota yet?” You sigh and roll your shoulder out. 

“We could have taken those guys! Couldn’t beat me on the table, no way he’d beat me on the street. He wouldn’t have troubled us at all.” He hops back and forth in a boxer’s stance. 

“Oh, you’re enough trouble for me already,” you say, more quietly. 

Jake turns to you and smiles, as heart-stopping as ever, and winks.

Yeah, this boy is going to put you into cardiac arrest sooner than later. 

\---

You have learned many things about Jake. 

The way he loves to put his feet up on long drives, tapping along absentmindedly to the music you play. 

The way he smells after he showers.

How he likes his eggs at the diners you frequent. 

And as you wind your way through the country you can delude yourself that you are just like he is, two young men enjoying their youth together. 

You are not fit to be his traveling companion, and refuse to tell him so. 

\--- 

“Put out that fucking light,” you tell Jake as you go to open the screen to your tent, but stop as you realize something terrifying. 

Bugs are congregating on the surface of the flap.

Ah, shit. You’re having flashbacks to Honduras. 

Jake had wanted to stay in a treetop bungalow with no real windows, which made for an incredible view. The place even came with a roof bathtub that Jake took full advantage of during the day. It was beautiful and insanely difficult to look away. 

For someone as averse to clothes as he was it was practically a dream. 

You paid the price dearly overnight.  
In the nighttime, bugs, of all shapes and sizes, found their way into your living space in numbers you have never seen before. 

You tried to brush your teeth in the bathroom but put your foot down when a moth landed in your toothpaste as you were about to put it in your mouth.

Jake didn’t stop laughing at your following meltdown for approximately half an hour. 

This time is worse, because you are now constrained to this tent until daylight unless you want to allow them inside. 

“What’s the matter?” Jake answers sleepily, looking up from a book. You point at the surface of the tent flap, where you can make out moths crawling, trying to find the light within.

“Oh goody, not again.” 

You laugh despite yourself and the fact that you feel like your skin is crawling despite none of the bugs actually being in your tent.

Yet. 

“We are never camping near a lake again, you can’t convince me,” you say, knowing all too well that Jake will probably want to again and you will say yes.

Jake turns out the electric lantern and you are plunged into darkness, save for the moon above that filters through mesh top. 

This night is going to suck. 

 

With it still being summer, it’s hot. 

Jake kicks out of his sleeping bag overnight, rousing you both. 

“I have to piss,” he complains shortly after.

“If you go out there I will cut off your beloved family jewels myself,” you threaten. 

You wake up with Jake sharing your pillow and pull away before he realizes his mistake. 

—

In Louisiana he eats an entire large serving of beignets. You indulge in a few and at one point he leans over to brush some powdered sugar off your scruff. 

You thank him and move on with your conversation.

—

In Georgia you pick your own peaches only to realize too late it was not actually a pick-your-own farm and drive out of there before anyone notices your full pockets.

—

He begs to go down to Orlando.

You, very begrudgingly, say yes. 

He takes a ton of selfies and eats too much ice cream and secretly, you like it. 

He wants to go to Miami. If you drive down to Miami you have to drive back up through the entire state.

He says he’ll do the drive, which you doubt, but you end up going anyways. 

The two of you end up in a multilevel club with scantily clad dancers on every surface. 

You feel far too old to be there, noting the hoards of twenty-somethings filling the space. 

At one of the less busy bars of the megaclub you notice a gaggle of girls eyeing Jake.

“You should go talk to them,” you say over the blaring sound. It is an incredibly painful sentence. 

He stirs his drink. “Oh?”

You shrug. Jake deserves someone to dance with him, someone new and full of energy like he is. 

You do not dance, and you do not remind yourself of the occasions Jake convinced you in South America. 

“And where would that leave you to sleep?” He laughs off your continued encouragement. 

You wilt internally. You are what holds him back, and he doesn’t even realize it.

Selfishly, you are thankful.

He may or may not convince you to dance after a few drinks once more. 

—

Jake agreed to drive out, so you pack up out of your shoddy motel and get back on the road the next afternoon.

Except then he doesn’t. 

“We’re here,” he says.

“There’s no way ‘we’re here’ we haven’t even been going for two hours and getting back through Orlando is three.”

But then you open your eyes and realize oh, Jake took you to a beach. 

He turns off the car. “Let’s go, chum.” 

You follow him down to the sand. It’s a flat bay, there are barely even ripples in the water. You can see some people paddleboarding in the distance. The sun hangs low in the sky, only minutes away from throwing the world into yellow and purple.

You dash and change into something you can swim with in your car and are in the water before you can blink, kicking off your sandals in the sand before you enter. It’s so warm, bathwater warm, and clear as could be. Jake wades out beside you, not minding that he’s soaking his shorts.

He’s got plenty to spare, anyways. 

Your toes squish over soft, jelly-like objects. “What the hell are these?” you wonder aloud, frustrated you can’t completely make them out.

Jake squints and leans over. Then he dives in and flips one over.

He breaches back up with water pouring out of his hair. “I think they’re jellyfish,” he says, clearly bewildered.

You’re not as surprised. “Upside-down jellyfish,” you realize. 

“They won’t sting you?”

“Nope, they just feel nice, don’t they?” 

“By george, they really do.”

The two of you wade out deeper, waist high, careful not to smash any of these delicate creatures as you step. 

The sun sets and you stand side by side, watching. 

“I hope you don’t mind the detour,” Jake says suddenly. “I know how much you love your ocean, and figured this would be last time for awhile you’d get to see it like this.”

“Not at all, Jake. Thanks,” you smile at him, thankful for your shades because the affection in your eyes would be so painfully obvious to anyone. 

You don’t even watch the sunset, too busy looking at the ball of light that you can only dream to actually call your own one day.

When the sun is down and night starts to set over the ocean, you look at Jake and ask him if he’s ready to go. He smiles at you. “Almost.”

The two of you end up strolling a nearby boardwalk when you’ve both dried off and changed. At the end of it you quietly watch a summer storm far out over the water, blasting the sky with bright white.


	3. Hello My Old Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[Hello, my old heart](https://youtu.be/AObC5VKMdEc) _   
>  _[How have you been?](https://youtu.be/AObC5VKMdEc) _   
>  _[How is it being locked away?](https://youtu.be/AObC5VKMdEc) _   
>  _[Don't you worry, in there, you're safe](https://youtu.be/AObC5VKMdEc) _   
>  _[And it's true, you'll never beat](https://youtu.be/AObC5VKMdEc) _   
>  _[But you'll never break](https://youtu.be/AObC5VKMdEc) _

In South Carolina you go golfing on courses next to entirely too large houses, and forget for a moment that Jake is not one for a sport that requires any measure of delicacy.

When Jake smashes a ball through a window you hop back in that golf cart and get away as fast as possible, laughing so hard you can barely drive. 

-

When you camp in Virginia you do not see Bigfoot, much to Jake’s disappointment. 

But you know you could never tire of these mornings next to a fire over fresh coffee, sitting across from him in companionable silence. 

 

The following drive through the northeast sees you both to museums on museums and a bit more big city than either of your tastes.

In New York you complain that you have had too many burgers, and Jake informs you that the two of you have had about fifty since you first started. 

You should probably see a doctor sometime.

 

It’s hard to believe you’ve done it when you finally get to Maine, the last intended leg of your trip. You eat lobster on the cold shorefront and figure out where you’re going to store your car. Jake has already arranged for a charter plane to take you up to the village closest to the mountains, where you’ll be able to finish the last of your preparations.

You’re not ready, not even a little bit. 

\---

You are graciously welcomed into the village, where it seems they are used to visitors pursuing the extreme sports the area has to offer. Your lodging is a cabin of sorts, with a fire that burns eternally and mattresses of furs, as is what seems to be traditional here. 

It’s cozy.

You also have no service and the outside world is _coated_ in snow, neither of which you are used to. 

However, after Jake walks around outside for a few, a little red settles into his cheeks and you can find it in yourself to not mind it so much. 

After getting settled in, you head to the town center to enjoy a hosted diner of game meats and appreciate in the unique ambiance of the area. This is definitely new territory for you, at least. At some point Jake dips out and comes back with one of the local guides. They sit with you at the hosted dinner and tell you about the village history and how they maintain their rural life. It’s a fascinatingly intimate experience, more than any village you visited in other countries. Those still seemed driven towards tourists, where this seems off the beaten path most of all. 

They also tell you that you’ll be assisted with preparations, which is a relief. You will be camping up on the mountain for a night or two, depending on the pace you and Jake can maintain, and are still lacking a few vital items. 

“There is one last detail,” they mention a little slyly. “The mountain sits on holy ground, we ask that all those ascending participate in a cleansing ritual before entering the area.” They watch you both appraisingly. 

Jake glances at you to see if you object. You shrug and shake your head. In one portion of your last travels you had to do something similar, it’s not trouble to you. 

Then Jake looks back at them. “Yes of course we’ll do it, we’d be honored.” 

“They have their work cut out for them with me,” You say dryly after they leave. Jake laughs. 

By the time the next day is over, you’ve got all your gear arranged. The only thing left to do is the ritual. 

The next morning you lounge around on furs by the fire in your cabin until someone comes by with a change of pajama-like clothes and loose shoes you’ll wear that evening. 

Jake tosses them at you and you assess the material. It’s incredibly soft wool, surprisingly light. Your guide waits outside while you change, and when you’re done you and Jake follow them through the village to where the ceremony or whatever it is you signed up for will occur. 

The guide leaves you there, in a small hut the outskirts of the town. 

It was a far enough walk for you to regret not bringing your coat, but it seems they are pretty serious about attire here so it was probably for the best that you didn’t. 

A fire roars in the middle of the hut, and a cold breeze flows through the door facing the forest, only blocked by two loose flaps. 

The shaman is waiting for you when you step inside and directs you where to stand. They then assess you both, a quick walk around the two of you while you stand still, before heading to a corner and starting work on some other ritual preparations. So far it seems pretty similar to any ritual you experienced in South America. 

You look at Jake. “Are they gonna do the egg thing? I love it when they do the egg thing,” you comment and he snorts. 

The shaman tosses a few things into the fire, glancing between you both. “Are you aware of what you about to undertake?” They ask.

“Uh, yes?” Jake offers, not expecting to actually be spoken to. 

The shaman hums thoughtfully but doesn’t stop the preparations. The scent of the smoke on the fire changes, becomes something heavy. 

It is not a familiar scent. In fact, it feels almost like you can’t describe it, as if it involves understanding a dimension you aren’t capable of comprehending. 

You glance over at Jake, whose face you cannot read at the moment. Then you look back at the shaman, who has begun to softly chant. 

The smoke fills your lungs, heady and distinct, and you wonder if you are starting to feel it in your head too. 

“Jake…” you intone.

“Yes, Dirk?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Nonsense, chap! We’ll be right as rain come tomorrow morning. This is supposed to clean us right out now, isn’t it?” 

The shaman continues to chant. Then they stop, and motion for you to come to their side at the fire. When you get there they take your hand. You realize with fear that they are removing an uncomfortably large dagger from a back pocket. You tense up and pull your hand away, ready to defend yourself. Your reflexes are slower than usual, but they only glance up at you curiously. 

You did say you were okay with whatever they offered, though blood rituals really did not cross your mind when you agreed. You still yourself for them. 

In one quick skilled move, they nick the skin of your wrist and produce a quick gush of blood. With a tilt of your hand, it splashes over the smoking pit, and you swear that the smoke _changes_. 

They hand you a cloth to hold over your wrist, and send you back to where you were standing apart from Jake. 

Jake follows with the same procedure, and you swear that the room goes a swirling green-tinge. The shaman comes to stand right in front of you both, eyes flickering between you and Jake. 

“Do you consent to be freed from your mortal bounds?”

You almost laugh at the absurd question, but are thrown off when your respectful “Yes” response slurs strangely. Jake doesn’t appear to be affected. 

“You will not speak of what transpires by the hands of the gods,” the shaman says. 

You feel alerted by the intensity of their voice. This all seems like a bit much, and strangely ominous for a cleansing ritual. 

But at the same time, you feel compelled to obey. They hadn’t asked you not to speak of it, they had directed you. 

“Remove your clothes and turn around,” the shaman commands.

 _What the hell?_ you think, and freeze. You swivel to look at Jake, who shrugs and follows as they directed, peeling off the soft warm pajamas. You can’t even begin to imagine what will happen next at this point. The smoke becomes even denser, coloring the air and your thinking. 

You obey, and when you are unclothed you turn around, not looking at Jake as you do. 

“May you find what you desire in your ascension.” 

Someone pushes you from behind and you stumble out through the flap, out of the smoke, and into the cold air of the forest, losing your mind in the process.

The cold hits your naked body instantly, a stark contrast to the warm smoke-lit room. You blink again the sudden wind as it blows snow in your face and hold out your hand as it hits you. 

You stumble over the freezing terrain, drawn into the woods,

and you

become

free


	4. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[So breathe in, breathe out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DWPmf9-6DM) _   
>  _[Let the human in](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DWPmf9-6DM) _   
>  _[Cage me like an animal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DWPmf9-6DM) _   
>  _[A crown with gems and gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DWPmf9-6DM) _   
>  _[If I could only let go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DWPmf9-6DM) _

You wake up with the distinct feeling that you are comfortable and warm, and you are curled around another body under a pile of soft.

You don’t want to open your eyes. Instead, you feel. 

You know without looking that you are wrapped around Jake, both of you are completely naked, and if you want to extricate yourself without waking him you will have to be very careful. 

You will savor this moment as long as it lasts, before he wakes up with the regret that follows of a drunken hookup. You don’t look forward to seeing it in his eyes. 

You two must have been high out of your goddamn minds last night. You can’t even remember what happened just yet. 

You tilt your head forward and indulgently breathe in his scent, the last you will probably ever get to again. He still smells faintly of that smoke.

And the forest.

Finally, you open your eyes. 

You and Jake are blanketed by furs, and a fire roars behind you with a teapot over it. Someone must have come in overnight to your cabin. You can feel your cheeks coloring at the thought that someone saw you and Jake like this, but there was plenty to be seen last night as is. 

You slowly lift your hands from him, having to pull out from under his arm. Your fingers brush against his stomach and you still as his breathing wavers for a moment, before falling back into the steady lull of sleep. You want to feel him again, just like… 

You are naked, and are glad that you have the opportunity to fix this before Jake wakes up. Thankful for the heat of the fire keeping the room from plunging into freezing, you slip out from under the furs. Your clothes are neatly folded in a pile in the corner and the pajamas you wore for the ceremony are nowhere in sight. You don your travel clothes and seat yourself by the fire on the thick rug. 

Someone also brought in mugs on a tray, so you take the pot from over the heat and pour yourself a steaming cup of what smells like tea with some sort of creamy substance mixed in. 

With nothing else to do but wait, you look into the fire and 

 

remember

 

 

_Jake runs ahead of you through the trees, and you chase him_

_The snow crunches under your paws as you gain on him_

_He has black fur and green eyes, and he does not belong to you_

_But your souls play together_

_And you are wolves_

_Though older you are still fast. You catch him, slamming into the younger wolf. You two of you roll through a bank of snow, coming to rest near the roots of tall trees_

_He jumps off of you, bounces around and barks as you get back up. You bark back as you stand, shaking off snow_

_You lunge at each other, baying playfully. Then side by side, you run together in the forest_

_Jake dances around you as you run_

_It’s not long before you tackle him again and you both roll on the icy ground._

_You lick his face_

_He licks yours back_

You blink against the intensity of the memory that can’t possibly be a memory. It’s crazy, it felt so real. What the hell did that ceremony do to you? 

You thought you were a wolf for fuck’s sake. 

And yet, at the same time, you both were

_Human_

_You are human, and Jake English is on top of you while you lay with your back in the snow. You feel him, feel his body, the heat in it sustaining you_

_It is a tangle of limbs and fur you cannot determine, cannot fathom_

_But he is holding himself above you, running his fingers through your hair, along your face, and smiling_

_He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen_

_And then_

_He_

_Kisses you_

_Jake is kissing you, and the cold does not matter or your naked bodies and and nothing matters but the young man in your arms who is kissing you like his life will end if he stops_

_You kiss him back_

_You feel each other, exploring your bodies that you know so well with your eyes but not hands_

You could not speak. You still cannot speak, so scared you will wake him. 

You could only 

_Laugh_

_Jake is laughing as he kisses you_

_You are free, and in that freedom you find that you love him, and why did you ever hold back?_

_You laugh just as joyfully, relieved as a weight you carried silently for too long is lifted from your body. You hold each other, feel your bodies as they are and do not let your lips linger away from his_

You knew in that moment, admitted to yourself that you loved Jake. 

And yet you could not say so because 

_You are wolves_

_Jake licks your face once more and you roll yourselves over so that you are above him_

_And then you growl at him_

_He releases a low whine, and you know instantly what it means_

_Jake is submitting you_

_You lean down to lick and nuzzle at his mouth, warm in your fur and proximity. You can smell him, know everything about him_

_And, oh--_

_You can smell how much he wants you_

_You can tell, feel what you need from each other_

_What you have wanted for so long, desperately, but did not allow yourself, because Jake does not belong to you_

Your let your head fall into your hands, rub at your eyes as you remember with unspeakable vividness so realistic it hurts. The fire crackles, but it does not stem this tortuous unending recollection. 

_You wrestle in the snow, whining and growling and biting at each other, a choreographed dance, before you arrange yourself so that you can--_

_You mount Jake like the animal you are. You enter him slowly, and he whimpers softly but you lick at his neck under you, sink your teeth into the fur of his neck and he barks at you to continue_

Jesus Christ, you fucked like _animals_. You were animals. It shouldn’t have been possible. It was so crazy, a fever dream beyond words, both a cure and the cause to the warm heat you’d been carrying for Jake in your stomach for months now. 

_You fuck him, exactly like that. Knot him as he howls for you. And when you cannot separate you move so that you are laying on top of him, a tangle of furred limbs as you lick and rest your faces together under a sky of endless stars_

_For a moment, Jake belongs to you_

_And you love him._


	5. Like Real People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[I will not ask you where you came from](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms) _   
>  _[I will not ask you, neither should you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms) _   
>  _[Honey just put your sweet lips on my lipst](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms) _   
>  _[We should just kiss like real people do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms) _   
> 

It wasn’t real. 

It couldn’t possibly have been real, even as you look back and know that it felt like it was. You touch a hand to your mouth, feel your lips that you swear you pressed against Jake’s last night, but know that it didn’t happen. 

It must have been the smoke, something you took last night that did this to you. You wish you could take it back.

What had the shaman said to you. ‘May you find you desire on the mountain?’ 

What a load of shit. 

You choke on something in your throat, a dull familiar weight that now feels so much heavier. 

You aren’t free anymore. 

And Jake is waking up. 

And you don’t want to find out he had a different dream. You steel yourself for it, staring into the fire and hoping it grants you some reprieve from the conversation you’re dreading. 

You can hear Jake roll over behind you and drop your head to your chest. 

“Hey there,” he says a little sleepily. Your heart twists painfully. You want to look at him, look at his face, but you don’t. 

“Strange night, huh?” you say, not daring to glance his way. You hear him sit up. 

“Dirk…?” he says unsurely, sensing the tenseness in your voice. 

“Did you have good dreams?” 

He makes a small noise. You don’t look at him. “Yes, I dreamed that--- that---” 

He’s struggling for words. So you look at him, and his face is twisted in consternation as he looks at you. He’s sitting up in the furs, his chest bare, and oh do you want to touch him.

He looks upset about something, and you think you know what it is.

You’ll do anything to avoid this conversation. 

“You should get ready, we’ve got a long day ahead of us,” you say and stand up. While Jake stumbles for words, you shove your feet into your boots and take off to find some answers. 

 

At the city village, someone directs you to the guide’s home. You find it, step up onto the porch, and rap on the door. 

They come to open it, appearing confused as your likely anguished expression. 

“Hello, are you ready for your trip?” 

“It’s-- It’s not that. The ritual, last night. Tell me what happened,” you beg immediately, feeling painfully helpless. “Because it was…. It was…. _shit_.” You can’t find the words for it. 

They peer at you in confusion for a long moment before understanding dawns across their face. “You were touched by the gods, you should be thankful.”

“Thankful for _what_? Showing me--” you start to say, and then realize you _can’t_. You can’t make the words come out. It’s like your brain or your tongue is blocked or something. 

They offer you a small smile. “The ceremony is meant to help you, show you something you desire if you are deemed worthy enough. Not many are granted such a gift.”

Show what _you_ desire. Of course. You try to form words, and realize you honestly can’t. 

“Why can’t I say anything?”

“You were sworn to silence, were you not? The people of this land have carried the secret for hundreds of years, and now so will you.” 

 

You head back to your lodging in full-body numbness. 

 

When you get back Jake is dressed, and he is glancing at you with a hesitant expression. 

“I’m gonna finish getting everything together,” you say. 

He frowns at you in the corner of your eye. “Well, alrighty then. I’ll uh, I’ll carry the climbing gear and you got the tent, yes?”

You nod tersely and busy yourself with making sure the bags are all packed, complete with your cooking gear and food you’ll have on the mountain. The plan is to hike out to the base, camp overnight, climb up to the top of the mountain, and then spend the next day descending. ‘Overnight’ is a relative term, in these parts of the world the sun rises at four am, a sight you plan to catch at the top. 

Maybe you’ll be able to look at Jake directly again by the time the trip is over, and you’re out of the snow and woods that will only ever remind you of his green eyes.

Usually, your hikes through the wilderness are marked by companionable silence, as you’ve found over time that Jake actually seems to prefer being alone without actually being alone. But this time, there is that palpable tension in the air. You take in the nature with quick exchanges that only end with you both looking away from each other. 

It hurts, and there is nothing but the cold and wind whispering through the trees to comfort you. 

You make it close enough to the base of the mountain, and set up camp near a frozen river. You prepare the food for the evening while Jake reads in the corner of the tent. It’s freezing, windy, and you both are kind of miserable, but neither of you really say anything. 

Tomorrow you’ll climb, and you’ll be one day closer to never seeing Jake again. 

Considering the conditions, you don’t sleep very well, but these trips in harsh weather aren’t always conducive to restful sleep anyways. 

Frankly, you’re nervous about the climb. It’s a straight twenty-hour hours up, next to no breaks, and one mistake could end your life and Jake’s. 

It’s going to be brutal, and exactly what you signed up for. 

Jake will climb first, setting up temporary cam anchor stations, that you will remove as you follow him. The mountain is mostly crack climbing, which is certainly easier, but you are far more inexperienced with climbs than he is. 

By the time you get to the top, your hands with be cut to shreds and you’ll be extremely dehydrated. 

But if you time it right, you’ll be treated to a sunrise unlike any other. 

For now, the only way to go is up so you smile weakly at him, he sends you back a weak half smile, and you start your ascent. 

He goes first, and as you look up at the massive peak, you realize you cannot fathom the height, and the fact that you will hopefully be breaching the top in twenty-four hours. 

It’s tedious, but fun. As you climb higher and higher, the adrenaline builds. You take breaks on small outledges of rock when your body starts to shake with the intensity of it all, or to wrap your slowly shredding hands. You get very good at removing the anchor stations and clicking your rope into the carabiner. 

The rope that keeps you attached to Jake and safe. 

The climb will take all day. You stop a couple of hours in, already feeling some exhaustion in your bones, and eat some of the prepared food. And then it’s back up the unending mountainside. But you’ll do it for Jake.

You’re supposedly a couple of hours away from the top, around midnight, when you stop to take another break before the roughest portion of the climb, a solid amount of meters at a slight upside-down incline angle, with a brutal ‘chimney’ portion. 

Of course the last two pitches would be the hardest part. 

“You ready?” You ask Jake.

“As I’ll ever be,” he says and smiles at you, but it’s nowhere close to its usual brightness and definitely does not meet his eyes. 

But he goes ahead and digs his fingers into the rock, starting anew. 

When you are almost to the next carabiner station, your entire setup fails in a way that should be comical if it wasn’t so damn tragic. 

 

Your rope breaks. Something that, by all means, should be impossible, because those things are made to be unbreakable. It’s a movie moment, the snapping that happens as you near the next anchor. The snap is so violent the cam clicks out of the wall, flying out and tumbling straight down the mountainside. 

Suddenly, you’re free climbing, an entire kilometer between you and the ground.

You’re going to die. 

 

_Well, I’ve lived a good forty-five years. This is it._

Maybe not, but something about not having the security of the attachment to Jake takes everything out of you. You freeze. 

Jake is busy working his way up the chimney portion, it doesn’t even look like he noticed the rig failure. 

“H-Hey Jake?” 

“I’m a little busy right now!” Jake calls back. 

“I kind of have a question for you!” You call back.

“Now‘s not really a good time Dirk!” 

You exhale and lean forward into the rock wall, limbs shaking as you lean your head forward into the rock and close your eyes. 

“Do you love me?” 

Jake stills, catching himself solidly in some crack rock. “What?!” He calls back. 

“I said, _do you love me_?”

Jake pauses, and you make yourself look up to see him straining to see you under him. 

“Oh god, it broke. Dirk, just hold on! You’re going to be okay!”

“Just— Just answer the question, Jake.”

“Dirk— Just climb up to me, you’re going to be fine—“ Jake responds with an equally shaky voice.

“Jake! Answer the question! Do you love me?”

Jake pauses. “Do I love you? Oh, I don’t know, Dirk! I just spent the last year traveling by your side! We’ve been around each other for so long, how do I even answer that, ‘ _Do I love you_?’” He shouts back. “What if all this time I was waiting for you! I don’t know! All I know is that I can’t lose you Dirk, so I need you to--“

“JAKE.”

“YES. YES, YOU DAFT THING, I BLOODY WELL LOVE YOU AND I ALWAYS HAVE.”

It echoes, so loudly through the mountains you think he knocked snow off a cliff lower down the mountainside. 

You’re both breathing erratically with exertion. 

With a shaking hand, you reach up to the next crack of rock, stick your shredded fingers in, and manage to pull yourself up to the next ledge. 

And just like that, you slowly but surely edge yourself up the wall, free soloing through the chimney portion. You don’t know how your limbs are moving, just that they are. 

Finally you’re right under him, holding on to the last anchor he set for you. 

He moves quickly, throwing down some more rope for you. You jam your feet into two cracks in the chimney portion to allow your hands, and you quick wrap another figure-eight tie into the harness. When you’re done you look back up at Jake, who is just… looking at you. Intensely. You put your hands back onto the rock and wonder if you’re shaking because you’re tired or because… 

Oh. 

“Jake, I--” 

“I can’t lose you, Dirk. I can’t. Just finish this with me, alright?” 

“I--” you try and start to say between your exhausted breaths, but you can’t make the words come out. 

He only grunts and shoves his hands further up on the rock, beginning to climb again. “--can’t fucking believe you--” you hear him mutter, and have no clue what to make of it. 

You breach the edge, Jake first and you following shortly after, gasping for air. Together you pull yourself away from the edge and overlook the view. Fog lays low over the endless mountaintops, far as the eye can see. 

You don’t even give yourself a moment to enjoy it. You don’t even give yourselves a moment to drink water despite your grave dehydration. 

You grab Jake and pull him to your face, kissing him. 

He throws himself into it, kissing you back, torn hands tangling in your hair, and you are warmer than you have ever been in your life despite the freezing conditions. 

He kisses you like you remembered from your smoke-haze dreams, desperately, furiously, with everything he has to give. His hands slide down to cup your face, and you rest your hands at his waist.

When you finally pull away gasping he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I love you, Dirk. I really do, please believe me,” he says, cupping a hand against your neck and squeezing it. 

“I know… I-- I love you, Jake,” you finally say. 

It feels like freedom. He smiles, so purely elated, and kisses you again.

He pulls away. “The ritual, I-- goddamn, why can’t I?” he says, a rhetorical question you know the answer to. 

“We were sworn not to speak of it. We can’t. But we’ll always have it, Jake. It’ll always be there,” you offer bittersweetly. 

He sighs, but then shoves you gently. “Of course it would take you nearly dying to say anything. Good heavens, what am I ever going to do with you?”

“Keep me around, I hope?”

Jake laughs loudly. “Yeah I think that might be the idea!”

You settle about to drinking water, beginning recovery after the brutal day. 

The sun is rising over the untouched surrounding wilderness, the sprawling innumerable mountains, when Jake speaks to you again. 

“I’m the heir to Skaianet,” he says.

“ _What_?” You almost yell. 

He just nods. “I am. Yes, I’m _that_ English. I… when we last parted ways, I had to go home. And they asked me to stay, threatened to cut me out of the deal if I went back out again. But I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t done seeing the world with you, Dirk.” 

“Oh, Jake… You can’t run away from it forever.”

“I know,” he grits out. “But I’m not… I’m not done with you. I’ll never be done with you, Dirk.”

You blink at him, then glance down and sigh. “I just… I don’t understand. Why me, after all this time?”

Jake laughs again, and you look at his face to see him looking at you in a way that is both familiar and foreign. An expression he’d given you before but that you could never see differently. “Don’t you know? You are the adventure, Dirk. It was always you.” 

The affection you feel for him could crush you, and all you do is lean forward and pull him to kiss you again. 

When you pull apart he’s smiling at you, just like your dreams. “You’re not going to die on me anytime soon, are you?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. “But we still have to jump off this thing.” 

Jake laughs and kisses you, a new thrill you know no other adrenaline-rush activity could top. 

It’s okay, more than okay. It’s only what you were looking for the whole time.


End file.
